Your Happiness is My Misery
by soda-denial
Summary: H/W. Tiny drabble. House is mysteriously happy, and yet... Wilson is not.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** : Ahhh, House M.D. Not mine.

**Characters** : House, Wilson, Cuddy

**Warnings** : Uh, implied H/W.

* * *

**Your Happiness is My Misery**

**"H**ouse looks happy today . . . "

Cuddy looked up from her desk to see Wilson standing there. She blinked. "And?"

"Uh . . . I'm kind of worried," Wilson said. Cuddy stared at him, incredulously. She was about to say something, but stopped. Cuddy thought about it.

"I . . . think I should go see, uh, what kind of 'happy' House is," Cuddy said. Wilson nodded and lead her to House's office. They stood in the hallway, attempting to stay out of House's field of vision.

"He looks exactly the same to me," Cuddy commented.

"No, can't you see? He's not quite as hunched over as he is normally, and his scowl isn't as big," Wilson pointed out. Cuddy attempted to look closer, while still staying out of House's view.

"I . . . still don't see it," Cuddy said. An air of finality surrounded her words.

Wilson sighed. "He . . . House was talking with his hands more than normal. He seems almost excited," Wilson attempted to explain.

"Are you sure it's not just his leg not hurting as much?"

"It's not. I've seen him clutching it a lot today. He's happy for another reason . . . "

Cuddy sighed. "Uh, look, Wilson, I've got some work to do." She paused. "You can continue watching House. Just call me if he tries to do something like burn down the paediatric ward, or something."

Wilson nodded. Cuddy began to walk away. She suddenly stopped. "You may not want to talk about how you know House is happy. People might . . . get the wrong idea."

Wilson rolled his eyes, and watched her continue walking away. He sighed and spun around . . . Only to come face to face with House. Wilson jumped.

"Talking about me, were you," House stated, rather than asked. Wilson rolled his eyes.

"The entire world doesn't revolve around you," he replied.

"Ha." It seemed as if House was going to leave it at that, yet Wilson knew better. So when House leaned in and whispered in Wilson's ear, "Only your's does," Wilson was not the least surprised. Although the fact that House's breath seemed to trail down his neck, and the way that Wilson's inner monologue had dubbed the voice House had used as 'husky' did.

The older doctor wandered off, and Wilson turned after him. "Oh shut up, House," he mumbled. House turned around to face Wilson, winked, then continued on his way.

The combination of the pounding in his head, from dealing with the mound stress that was House, the suspicious looks he just knew he would be getting from Cuddy, and the annoying fluttering that seemed to center around his stomach, Wilson was positive it was going to be an insufferably long day.

And he still didn't know why House was happy.

* * *

Continuable.  
But, I'm horridly lazy.

House is pretty sweet. Not sure if I captured anyone's character that well. Heh. ;;  
Oh, you guys should all downsize the text when reading! It's so much cuter!

We'll just see how this goes then.  
-Taryn.


	2. Chapter 2

Wilson made pathetic attempts to continue his day after his recent encounter with House, but failed miserably. Wilson settled for busying himself in the clinic and avoiding House at all costs. Which included lunchtime, the hardest time of the day to avoid the old doctor. House would scour the hospital high and low, wasting as much time as possible, for Wilson, in order to get a free lunch. Wilson figured as long as he kept moving there would be no problems.

He was wrong.

House was not a person to be avoided; he'd found Wilson within minutes of when he decided to start looking. It wasn't like it was hard. Wilson was hiding in the cancer ward.

"Lunch time," was all that House said, before pulling Wilson to the cafeteria.

Wilson allowed House to grip his arm and drag him the entire way there. Wilson didn't mind in fact. There were small electric spikes surging through the area that House was touching, and, for whatever reason, Wilson didn't want them to stop. Not to mention he was rather hungry from running around corners at every glimpse of House earlier.

House and Wilson sat down with their food. House instantly began to chow down, per usual, while Wilson hung back. He'd noticed a cheery glint in House's eye a few moments ago in the lunch-line. Wilson studied House's face for a moment, wanting to ask what was so marvellous about this day, but knowing that no answer would come.

"Wilson," House said, derailing Wilson's train of thought.

"Huh?" His head snapped up, as eye contact was made between the two. Wilson's heart skipped a beat.

"Gimmie your fries," House demanded, pulling Wilson's tray closer to himself. Wilson scowled slightly.

"Why do you need my fries? You have your own! You're not even done eating them yet." Wilson knew he was fighting a losing battle though. There was no winning when it came to House and food.

The older male chuckled. "Wilson, you're far too uptight," he commented, consuming more of the stolen fries.

Wilson didn't even process the words that came out of House's mouth. He couldn't get over the chuckle that House had emitted. For House, that gesture was one expressing that he was in an absolutely ecstatic mood. Wilson's mouth slowly opened and he stared blatantly at House.

"You... You're mood is..." Wilson couldn't formulate a proper sentence.

House glanced at Wilson, his piercing blue eyes boring into Wilson's skull. The conniving doctor smirked. House raised his foot slightly off the ground and rubbed it down Wilson's shin. Now normally, this would have made Wilson scowl and wonder why House was wiping his shoe on Wilson's pants, but today it seemed to have a very different effect on the oncologist. Wilson gasped nervously and stifled a moan that was threatening his sanity.

House's smirk became more pronounced. He licked his fingers then stood. Wilson just sat there, gaping at the diagnostician.

"I'll see you later Wilson."

And with that, House was gone; limping away. Wilson's brain hadn't really regained comprehensive abilities, and didn't for at least ten minutes from House's departure.

Wilson's first thought when his cognitive processes returned was about how House still hadn't alluded anything to his cheerful mood.

* * *

Randomly making this story a multi-chaptered event.  
For whatever reason. -_-  
The updates will most likely be few and far between though.  
Already I am failing at this...

-Taryn


	3. Chapter 3

Wilson returned to his office after his lunch with House, closing the door behind himself. After sitting at his desk and checking his day planner to see what appointments he had to attend today, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. Wilson decided he had a few moments to ponder his favorite—and least favorite—doctor. Wilson wished that Cuddy hadn't dismissed his comments so causally, or at least had been willing to listen to Wilson further. He didn't blame her though; she ran a hospital, and, not to mention, she wasn't House's biggest fan, so why would she want to talk about him?

Wilson sighed once more and massaged his temples, attempting to alleviate the House issue from his mind. Of course, much like the real live version of House, the thoughts of the older man did not leave Wilson's mind. He resigned himself to his thoughts.

"Well, he did look pretty happy at the prospect of food. That's normal," Wilson said to himself. It was quickly countered by his mind. _House is _never _happy. There's definitely something up with him today._

Wilson went over the events of his day, wondering what House could possibly be moderately not unhappy about, but couldn't find anything in particular. It was not House's birthday, although, usually that holiday made House depressed more than cheerful. It was not any sort of super exciting season finale of any sort of soap operas House partook in watching. Wilson highly doubted House was getting a raise, not to mention, House never really seemed to care about money anyway. The more Wilson thought about it, the more circles his mind went in.

Quite a while later, Wilson realized he was late for an appointment with a patient, as he'd spent so much time thinking about House. He quickly rushed off to the cancer ward, not wanting to acknowledge the feeling of euphoria that sprung up when he realized he'd spent nearly an hour just thinking about House.

The meeting with the patient went fairly quickly, ending in positive results on the latest tests for said patient. Wilson left the room in a good mood. House was waiting right outside the door. Wilson smiled at him, and was almost completely shocked when the smile was returned.

"Wilson!" House exclaimed, throwing an arm around the oncologist's shoulder. "I need a consultation."

Wilson, who had barely heard House over the surprise of seeing House's smile, nodded belatedly. "...'Kay..."

House retracted his arm, grasping his cane tightly and limped off in the direction of his patient's room. Wilson took this as an invitation to follow. Catching up to House quickly, Wilson walked alongside the man, attempting to subtly observe him— which, in retrospect, was not so subtly at all. In fact, it was just short of blatantly staring at House. For Wilson's sake, House pretended not to notice.

They arrived outside the room the patient House wanted him to see. Wilson tore his gaze away from House before entering the room. The first thing Wilson noticed was that this was not a patient's room—but rather a closet. He spun around to shout at House, but found the door slammed in his face. The troubling part was the click of the lock Wilson heard moments after the door closed.

"House! Let me out!" Wilson called out, knocking on the inside of the door.

"No that's quite all right Wilson," House shouted back.

Wilson heard the familiar sounds of House limping away and slumped against the door dejectedly. He felt around his pockets for his cell phone, but his search came up empty. "Dammit House..."

Wilson really wished he'd never wondered anything about the older doctor; he hoped House would come back for him before the end of the day. And maybe reveal why he was so happy.

* * *

I can't believe I'm still writing this.  
It's such a faulty idea. And I haven't updated in forever.  
Whatever. I'm updating now.

I miss when this show wasn't _bad_.  
Season six is so shitty it hurts.

-Taryn


End file.
